A/N- Well, I'm fed up with Chekov's goddamn accent. It's super cute and loveable, but hard as hell to write. So I wrote it normally and y'all can use your imagination. Enjoy!

Sulu had hardly noticed- except for the usual 'are you okay?'- when the little Russian ensign walked into him. It wasn't that he didn't care; they were the best of friends; it was just getting so frequent that he was almost used to it.

It seemed that Chekov was, of late, so distracted and clumsy that he nearly couldn't do his job. Whenever he popped up, he was tripping over his own feet or bumping into whoever was remotely in his vicinity. Sulu was getting rather worried, in fact.

Whenever the helmsman tried to talk to his friend about it, Chekov would just brush it off and follow up with an obviously-cover-up comment about whatever planet they were in orbit around.

Determined to find out what was going on, Sulu decided to talk to Kirk about it. He caught the captain in the hallways one afternoon.

"Hey," Kirk said, smiling. "What's going on?"

"Uh, I'd actually like to talk to you about something," Sulu replied. He quickly added, "Captain."

"Aw, come on. You don't have to call me that unless I'm yelling at you to do something," Kirk said, with a slight chuckle. "So, what's the problem?"

"Chekov, sir," Sulu said. Better cut straight to the chase, I guess, he thought. "He's been really… out of it lately."

"Yeah, I think it's getting to everyone," said Kirk, sighing. "But he's a kid, you know? He'll have his ups and downs."

"For three weeks?" Sulu knew there was something else going on and he was going to find out what.

"Yeah." Kirk winced. "I sent him down to Bones after he practically fell into my lap one day, and all I got back was-" He put on his best McCoy voice, which wasn't half bad. "-'Dammit, Jim! I ain't got time for this! The kid's not sick, he's not hurt, he's not- gah!' and you know, just usual Bones crap."

"So he didn't know what was up?" asked Sulu.

"I don't think so, and if he did, he didn't tell me anything," Kirk said. He looked concerned. "God, the only thing he does is rant."

"Hm." Sulu nodded, thinking hard.

Kirk clapped his hands together. "Well, I'm off. See you in… uh, a few minutes. Wait- actually could you go see Chekov for me? Take him to his room and tell him he's got the rest of the day off. Maybe all he needs is sleep."

Sulu nodded again. "Thanks, sir." He headed off one way down the hallway and Kirk went the other. When the helmsman reached the bridge, he felt a sudden wave of nerves pass over him. What if something's actually wrong with him? And where would that put me? I'm worried for him. He took a deep breath and cleared his throat. "Uh, Chekov?"

"Hm?" The little Russian spun his seat around, smiling. He didn't look unhealthy in the least- his blue eyes sparkled and his cheeks were rosy.

"Um…" Sulu found that just a simple 'take-a-rest' talk was turning out way harder than he thought it would be. "Um, could I talk to you? I mean, out there?" He gestured to the hallway.

"Sure!" Chekov answered brightly, standing up and letting Uhura take over his position. He followed Sulu out. "So, what is it?"

Sulu took a breath. "It was, uh…" He couldn't help but ask himself the 'why's-his-accent-so-perfect?' question.

A long silence followed.

Chekov finally spoke up, a perplexed look on his face. "What were you going to tell me?"

"Ah, err, Captain Kirk wanted to- um…" Sulu struggled. What the hell's going on? I can't even talk! "Kirk told me to tell you to get some sleep." There. Got that out.

"Sleep?" Chekov raised one eyebrow. "I don't need sleep. I'm feeling quite nice today, really." It would have sounded natural if he hadn't said it far too quickly.

"Come on," said Sulu with a sigh, all his speech disabilities gone. He gently took Chekov by the arm and led the young Russian along.

"What? Are you kidding me?" Chekov protested, weakly struggling. "What about my job?"

Sulu stopped, pulling his friend to face him. "So, what's your plan, Pavel? Do you really think that nobody notices?"

"N-notices what?" Chekov stammered.

"Seriously?" Sulu rolled his eyes. "You've been barely stumbling along for the past month! Well, almost a month. You fall every five steps; you actually messed up on a coordinate calculation a few days ago."

"I do not fall every five steps!" exclaimed Chekov indignantly, stomping one foot to emphasize his words.

Sulu sighed. "Alright. Off to bed."

"No!"

"I'll drag you," the helmsman threatened.

Chekov stuck up his nose. "I'd like to see you try."

In short, Sulu did try. And he did succeed. The little Russian weighed practically nothing and he wasn't trying especially hard anyways. It was easy for Sulu to pull Chekov to the door of the teen's room.

"Here we are," said Sulu. The door slid open.

Chekov trotted dejectedly into the room and sat on the edge of his bed. "Thanks for escorting me." He rolled his eyes.

"Are you okay?" asked the helmsman. "You just… seem edgy."

"Well, I haven't been sleeping that well, okay?" Chekov exclaimed, irritation very present in his tone. He laid down and turned his back to the door.

Sulu sighed. "What's bothering you?"

"Dunno. It's just stupid. Bye, Sulu," Chekov intoned, as if he could force his friend out of his room with only his voice.

"Pasha… You can talk to me." Sulu sat on the bed and laid a hand on the young Russian's shoulder.

When Chekov spoke, his voice sounded clouded with what Sulu could only assume were tears. "Don't call me that, I'm not a kid anymore."

"I-I didn't mean that," stammered Sulu, taken aback. "It's just… I've kind of always called you that. Because I care about you, and that's what friends do."

Silence.

"Chekov, I'm not going to judge you," continued the helmsman. "I know you're pretty mature, and I'm not trying to imply otherwise. Whatever's bothering you, you can tell me."

More silence, until-

"Alright." Chekov sat up, but didn't really face Sulu. "Alright, if you really want to know. Remember the day when- when Vulcan- when it… When it got…"

"I remember," whispered Sulu. Of course he remembered. It had nearly been half a year, but the destruction of Spock's home planet had hit them all hard.

Chekov inhaled, his breath fluttering. He was crying. "Well, Spock's mom… She fell. I- I had everyone in the transporter beam, I did everything right. I-I- Everything was perfect, I was c-counting down from five. There was no chance of anything going wrong. Of anyone… Of anyone- you know. B-but something happened, and I lost her, and-"

"Chekov, I know," Sulu said softly. He gently turned his friend to face him and squeezed the navigator's hand. "I was there."

"Well, whenever I go to sleep I see her face." Chekov's voice was barely a whisper. "I see her face and Spock and I hear people yelling from that day, telling me to save her. She's dead because of me, Karu. Because I didn't do enough, I didn't do it right, I lost her. Her death is on me. I'm so guilty, and she knows it. She's disappointed, she hates me because I couldn't let her live…" His stammerings fell into Russian, then broke into quiet sobs as he leaned into the helmsman's chest.

"It's okay, Pasha. It wasn't your fault," Sulu murmured into the navigator's reddish curls. "There was nothing you could have done; you tried your hardest."

"S-so I guess when you ask what's b-bothering me, the answer is n-nightmares," Chekov choked out. "Karu, I c-can't look Spock in the eyes. I h-haven't been able to since that d-day."

Sulu closed his eyes and pressed his lips to the top of Chekov's head. "It's okay," he whispered. "It's okay, it's okay, it's okay…"

Slowly, the young navigator drifted to sleep, all his tenseness dissolving into dreams. They weren't nightmares, and they wouldn't be nightmares.

Chekov knew he was safe, safe in the arms of his Karu.